


Agape: The Colours of My World

by Stelra_Etnae



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9451190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stelra_Etnae/pseuds/Stelra_Etnae
Summary: Somewhere along the way without him realising it, Yuri’s world had filled with colour.(Variation of the colour soulmate AU where everyone sees in monochrome vision at the beginning, but instead of just having one soulmate, every person who influences your life in a significant way gives you one colour each.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I got the idea for this story off the vision/colour-based soulmate trope, where everyone starts out colour-blind at birth but their vision becomes fully coloured when they meet their soulmate. In this context of this story, which uses a variation of the classic trope, it wouldn’t really be a ‘soulmate’ that gives you colour but rather ‘soul bonds' with the significant people in your life, built through encounters and experiences. It takes the concept that ‘meaningful relationships bring colour to your life’ to a whole new literal level. I had a lot of fun writing this, so I really hope that you’ll enjoy reading it as well!

Yuri couldn’t remember his mother very well, but he knew that he had received his green from her. It was the green that coloured his eyes, and even as his memory faded he would always remember that same green mirrored in hers.

His grandfather had given him the colour gold – the brightness of his hair, the richness of wheat in summer, the faint tinge of it in his favourite pirozhki. It was only later that he started associating it with victory and success, and even then it was perfectly apt. His grandfather was the one who believed in him the most, after all. In his eyes little Yurochka was already a champion, from the first moment he had held that tiny bundle against his heart.

Yakov was gruff brown, which many would say was an unexcitingly plain colour among much brighter, more spectacular alternatives. But brown was the freshly-turned earth beneath their feet before farming season and that other colour in pirozhki that he hadn’t been able to identify before, and it didn’t matter so much anymore that he was so far away from home in St Petersburg because Yakov felt a little like home.

The colour that Mila gave him was the rich red of her hair, warm like smouldering embers and passionate like a rose in full bloom. It was present in the far edges of the sunset, the bottom stripe of the Russian flag, and in the natural red of her lips when they curved into both teasing and genuine smiles. But Mila’s red was most beautiful in the short strands that danced in the wind as she skated in graceful yet powerful curves around the rink, and Yuri watched her and quietly decided to grow his hair out a little as well.

Georgi’s colour was a shimmery silver that he almost missed, and wasn’t that rather tragically fitting. Anyone with eyes could see the fierce rivalry he held towards Victor, those just a little bit perceptive could tell that it was painfully one-sided. Silver was the colour of Victor’s hair streaming behind him in the morning sunlight, but it was also the colour of the ice when the light slanted a certain way. Silver added a different sheen to everything around, lifting it beyond what was once dull grey, lighting up the world just a little bit more. And maybe the older skater was frustrating and annoyingly melodramatic most of the time, but Yuri felt that maybe he understood him a little more after that.

Victor’s blue was dazzling and flashy, the bright blue of the sky on a flawlessly sunny day reflected in his eyes. It was the kind of colour that was so brilliant it made your eyes hurt, but at the same time you never wanted to tear your gaze away. For years he had both loved and hated that blue, that distant untouchable blue, and it was only years later that he found the warmth in it as it hung across the sky in an endless blanket and allowed the sun to shine. It was also years later that he realized the fragility in that same blue, like thin ice slowly splintering.

In contrast Yuuri’s was gentle, much like the person himself, and the change was so subtle Yuri didn’t truly notice it until much later. When he did, he slowly came to understand the strength in its nuances, that deep all-encompassing blue. He found a name for the shade as well, and he wondered if it was more telling or ironic that the colour that defined Katsuki Yuuri in his eyes was a colour commonly known as royal blue? He had never realized, before returning to St Petersburg from Hasetsu, that even though the sea reflected the sky, the colour wasn’t the same.

Yuuko’s colour was gentle as well, the soft yet vibrant pink of the sakura blossoms Japan was so proud of. And it wasn’t all just in one shade; he couldn’t identify for sure which was which, but he believed that the triplets had also given him one shade of pink each. What other explanation could there be for how the pink blossoms shifted and changed as they swayed in the wind, each one different from the next? The sakura blossoms had bloomed in full splendour during his time in Hasetsu, and it wasn’t wrong, he thought as he watched soft petals fall like coloured snow, how many people said that it was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.

Perhaps it was strange that he only received yellow so late on; Mila sometimes joked that part of Yuri’s intensity had come from the fact that gold had once been all he’d been able to see. Then Lilia strode into his life with her mustard yellow coat and equally startling presence, and taught him the difference between yellow and gold. She’d polished him, challenged him, pushed him to his limits and reeled him back before he went too far. He was gold, she told him, and she had taken it as her job to make him shine as he ought to. And the crust of pirozhki was a little bit yellow as well, and the egg in katsudon; and somewhere along the line while living with Lilia and Yakov he had started to think of that place as home as well.

Yuri would rather be caught dead than to admit it, but he hadn’t been able to see purple until that stupid JJ. Sure he had some inkling of the colour that existed between Mila’s red and Victor’s blue, but it had been a muted substitute of the blazing unapologetic purple that was JJ in his short program outfit. It was just as obnoxious as Yuri found the skater himself, but gradually he came to recognize in it the gentleness of lavender and the gradient of a sunset, and well… maybe it wasn’t too bad. It still wasn’t something he’d ever say aloud, though.

Then he met – or rather, was reunited with – Otabek, and realized, ah black was a colour as well. Otabek had received his colour a long time ago, back on that first day in far-off unfamiliar St Petersburg where he had looked into green eyes flecked with gold in the sunlight and thought, so these were the eyes of a soldier. Yuri’s vision changed in Barcelona, the whole world suddenly looking different, sharper with more clarity. There were perhaps people who might call black a cold, unfeeling colour, but Yuri didn’t agree. Shadows were clearer, that was true, but so was the light. There was no purer colour in the world than black, which could never be corrupted by any other colour. And that was exactly what Otabek came to mean to him over the years – an unchanging, grounding constant in his life. On that fateful day when he first held Otabek’s offered hand in his, there was already a part of him that knew he never wanted to let go.

There were many others as well, some who had come and gone leaving only the memory of their colours, and there would be many more in the future. After all he was still just fifteen, with a whole lifetime of meetings ahead of him, many new colours to see. But for now he treasured every single colour because each one had been given to him by a precious person, along with their heart.

In this moment here and now, this was his agape.

**Author's Note:**

> Some additional headcanons:  
> The colour received from a meeting varies both according to the individual and the nature of the relationship formed. The colour usually reflects something about the individual, and Yuri’s colour to other people is generally gold. 
> 
> Colours can be different shades of the same colour, such as Victor’s sky blue and Yuuri’s deep blue. Before receiving multiple shades, all things with blue colouring would appear to be of roughly the same colour, so in that way more meetings would gradually bring one’s vision to closer and closer to reality.
> 
> Receiving the colour doesn’t necessarily occur at first meeting, but rather when the person begins to exert a significant influence on your life. That’s why Otabek got Yuri’s colour ages ago but Yuri only got Otabek’s in Barcelona.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos! Thanks for reading!


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